


Play Us A Song, You're The Piano Man

by Helicake752



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Pianos, late night piano fuckery, playing music together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helicake752/pseuds/Helicake752
Summary: Hanzo finds Jesse playing Piano late one night.Ramblings of a wannabe poet





	

**Author's Note:**

> Pianos! Playing Music! Playing music ON PIANOS!!!
> 
> I don't play piano I play flute so just bear with me on the mechanics of everything lol

When Hanzo first hears it, he feels like he’s intruded on a deeply personal moment. He wants to walk away, because he feels suddenly dirty for having interrupted something as beautiful as this, but he’s rooted to the ground, transfixed by the music. He wants to listen forever, to feel the music around him.

Gentle piano notes engulf Hanzo like a thick blanket, surrounding him and soothing his usual tense thoughts into a slow, swaying lull. He recognizes the piece easily: Prelude in C, one of Bach’s classics. Something tugs in his gut, something warm and happy. No, happy was the wrong word. Content.

Hanzo pads silently towards the sound, his feet awkwardly out of time with the lilting melody. He rounds the corner, and the sight nearly takes his breath away. An old, wooden piano, backed against a wall: a relic presumable dug out of the base’s attic. Jesse McCree sits at the bench, eyes closed, entranced by his own playing. His body seems to lean into each phrase, shifting with the music delicately. He seems at peace. Content, Hanzo’s mind insists.

Something about Jesse seemed different. His hat was gone, leaving his hair loose and shifting along with the music. His serape is draped over his shoulders like a blanket, and no cigarillo is wedged between his teeth. He looks younger. Less tired, less cynical. Hanzo can’t pinpoint any one reason, but in the faint glow of the setting sun, orange light pouring over the cowboy, Jesse looks beautiful. Hanzo’s breath catches.

Suddenly, the music stops. Hanzo blinks, silence hitting him hard, leaving his ears ringing. He fels empty, somehow. Deflated. Jesse has stopped, and slumps over, staring emptily at the keys in front of him. Hanzo waits for the silence to stop ringing before he breaks it. His voice sounds harsh, a hammer into the glassy spell around the two.

“That was beautiful. Why did you stop?”

Jesse’s head turns slowly to Hanzo, a sad smile across his rough features. He seems distant. Faraway, lost to another time, another place. He shrugs.

“I forgot the rest.”

Hanzo does not press. He simply nods, and stands in the silence comfortably. The music had been novelle, soft and inviting, but silence was a familiar blanket to Hanzo. Something about it settled in with him, clinging to the archer like silken fabric. Jesse says nothing. He turns back to the piano, but does not play. He seems lost in his own thoughts.

Hanzo stays for a while, replaying the music in his mind.

-

The next time Hanzo hears it is late at night, when the whole world is resting. Hanzo ghosts through the halls, creating no sounds to interrupt the stillness of the night. He appreciates the quiet breathing of the base as it, too, sleeps. There is no light in the halls, save for small traces of starlight to illuminate a path for Hanzo.

His feet carry him down a faintly familiar hall. He doesn’t remember it at first, until he hears quiet notes drifting around him. Again, they settle around the archer like a thick blanket, quieting everything but the gentle music. He approaches the room, to find Jesse once again at the piano. His pajamas are a grey tank-top and patterned sweatpants, though Hanzo can’t make the pattern out in the darkness. His hair is pulled away from his face in a loose ponytail, and a pair of square glasses nestle against his nose. He looks tired, but at the same time, alive, as his fingers skate down the keys. It takes Hanzo a moment to place the tune: Moonlight Sonata. Fitting, for the heavy night encompassing the base.

“You play well.” The music doesn’t stop, but it does get slightly quieter. Jesse glances at him from the corner of his eye, and smiles.

“Why, thank you, darlin’. Been playin’ since I could talk.” Hanzo nods, his mind still taken by the delicate pull of the melody. Jesse shifts over on the bench, and beckons Hanzo over. Hanzo obliges, slipping onto the seat next to Jesse. “You play any?”

“No, I do not,” Hanzo replies, watching Jesse’s hands meander across the keys. They seem to move so quickly, and yet his fingers match the languid pace of the music. Hanzo admires the way his hands seem to glide across each key, never missing or overlooking even one. 

“Shame. I use’ta play with my sisters all the time. I know a lotta good duets.” Jesse huffs a small laugh to himself, and shakes his head. Hanzo watches him carefully.

“Why do you still play?” Hanzo asks. Jesse’s hands seem to falter for a moment, but the music doesn’t suffer. 

“It reminds me of home, I s’pose. Only thing I can remember that’s the same. Not much changes on a piano, y’know?” The song comes to an end as Jesse says it, finishing with a baroque chord. They both let it ring, listening to the silence creep in, and devour the silky piano notes.

“I enjoy your music,” Hanzo finally says, shaking the silence off easily. As thickly as it clung to him, Hanzo was skilled at shrugging the blanket of quietness from his shoulders, pushing it down and out of sight. “It is very… Peaceful.”

“Thank you kindly, buttercup,” Jesse replies. They lapse back into silence. Jesse’s hands ghost over keys, in a phantom song. Hanzo isn’t sure how long they sit, but faint rays of sunlight fall upon the keys when they finally depart.

-

Hanzo leans against the wall, silently staring across the empty room at the barren piano, his mouth pressed into a hard line. He has not heard any music from it in the past week.  
Jesse is injured. Hanzo sees him when he walks by the medbay, laying in one of the cold, sterile beds, wrapped in cold, sterile blankets with cold, sterile needles weaving up and down his arm. It makes Hanzo shiver, to think of how badly McCree must have been hurt to allow such treatment. 

The base seems quieter without Jesse. Less laughter, less light, less life. Hanzo can feel the derelict halls bow under the crushing weight of the dark, silent nights, with nothing to chase away the shadowy quiet that lingers in the halls.

The heavy silence is stifling, wrapping itself around Hanzo like a vice, constricting him. He longs for the music. He longs for Jesse.

Hanzo pushes off the wall, his feet tapping lightly against the floor. He sits silently at the piano bench, staring at the expanse of keys that suddenly seems so much bigger without Jesse’s competent hands dancing over them. Hanzo places his own onto the piano, poorly mimicking Jesse’s posture and position. 

For a moment, he simply stares, unsure of how to begin. He lightly presses one key, his pinky, coaxing the note out. It dies quickly, a small echo in the thick, dark silence. Hanzo presses another, harder this time, earning a loud, resonant note. With none to follow, it merely hangs in the air for a moment before dying. 

“You’re practically Mozart, Sunshine,” A raspy voice drawls. Hanzo turns quickly, startling a few dissonant notes from the piano as he does. Jesse leans heavily against the doorframe, smiling weakly.

“You should be resting,” Hanzo says, managing to keep the worry underneath his stern tone. Jesse shrugs, and coughs slightly. A white blanket is draped over his shoulders, and dark circles gather under his eyes.

“I’m fine,” He scoffs, and makes to move towards Hanzo, but stumbles. Hanzo catches him swiftly, tugging Jesse’s arm over his shoulder for support. Jesse is heavy, leaning most of his weight onto Hanzo, who bears it silently. 

“You are not fine. You should not be moving around so much,” Hanzo scolds, setting him down on the piano bench. 

“I’m just stretchin’ my legs a bit,” Jesse dismisses, waving Hanzo off. 

“You are hurt,” Hanzo insists. Jesse looks down at his lap, and says nothing. His breaths come slightly faster than normal, labored. His eyes are tired, but not the type of tired that can be cured by sleep. Somehow his frame shrinks smaller, as if being swallowed by his thoughts. It is a look Hanzo recognizes from his mirror, one that pulls his features gaunt and emotionless late at night, when there is nobody else to see.

He does not reply, simply shrugs and avoids looking at Hanzo. It is strange, seeing Jesse, usually so full of life, so vibrant and charming, fall quiet and still, dropping his usual cheery facade. It has never occurred to Hanzo that pain lies beneath the surface. It is evident now, written clearly across Jesse’s face, his hands, his body.

“I miss them,” Jesse whispers. Hanzo does not say anything, waiting for Jesse to continue. “My sisters, my Ma… haven’t seen ‘em in years.”

Hanzo nods, unable to offer any sort of support. Family was not something he remembered fondly. So he hides under his blanket of silence, and allows Jesse to speak.

“I wonder how they’re doing. If Ma’s still alive… If Maria ever went to college like she always wanted…” Hanzo heard his voice break on the last word, and took Jesse’s hand in his own, trying to show some sort of support without relinquishing his place within the quiet.

“Camila and Ronnie, I bet they graduated high school by now… Wish I’d been there for it… They probably don’t even remember me by now, they weren’t more ‘n four or five when I left…” Hanzo didn’t miss the tear that falls to Jesse’s lap from the tip of his nose, although it was obscured by the long strands of Jesse’s hair. His hand curls in his lap, flexing for something to hold.

“I hope Ma’s not still mad at me. She always told me runnin’ with Deadlock wouldn’t get me nowhere but six feet in the ground. She about blew smoke when she heard I was with ‘em again… ‘course, she was right, but Ma’s always right,” Jesse chuckles, but it sounds hollow. Wordlessly, Hanzo squeezes Jesse’s hand. He turns his head, looking at Hanzo as if he’d forgotten he was sitting next to him. Jesse’s eyes are red, and tears slowly track down his face, shining in the dim light.

“I-” Hanzo starts, but realizes quickly he has no words for Jesse. “...Am sorry.” Jesse smirks half-heartedly at him, and sniffles.

“It ain’t your fault. It ain’t anybody’s fault but mine,” He sighs, raising his hand to run through his mussed hair. “Too much time thinkin’ in that bed in there, nothin’ else to do but think…”

His eyes cast downward again, looking once more into the past. Hanzo tugs his hand, forcing him back into the present. He places Jesse’s hand onto the ivory keys, and slips his own underneath.

“Teach me?”

Silence floods the space between them. Jesse looks at Hanzo through red and purple eyes, and Hanzo looks back. They say nothing, but an understanding seems to pass between them. Jesse huffs a small laugh, and looks away, before nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, OK, sweetheart.”

-  
Hanzo feels exhaustion deep in his bones, worming it’s way through him like tree roots and crushing him, slowly but surely. He walks mechanically, his legs stiff, running on three-day-old sleep with no reprieve in sight. Hanzo supposes this feeling, these nightmares, are a fitting punishment. Who is he to feel alive when he has forced death upon his own brother?

Somehow his stiff legs carry his half-dead form through the Watchpoint, stumbling away from the inevitable nightmares sleep promises him. He cannot avoid it forever, but Hanzo is a stubborn man.

It’s almost instinct, at this point, for him to return to that room. Hanzo is hardly shocked when he arrives. He sits at the piano bench, and runs his fingers over the keys. Sleep creeps into his joints, slowing their movements, but Hanzo ignores it, pushing his exhaustion out of his mind and out of his hands, placing them delicately as Jesse had instructed him.

He gently presses down, coaxing a soft melody from the piano ever so delicately. It is not as graceful as Jesse’s playing, but there is a certain beauty to the beginner’s technique: Slow and steady, assuring perfection before each note. It cannot chase away sleep as easily as silence, but the music tucks it safely out of sight, allowing Hanzo to focus on the song he weaves.

He is dead to the world, eyes lidded from fatigue and focused solely on the piano in front of him. He barely notices when someone slips onto the bench next to him, and begins to play alongside his melody, adding a richness and intricacy to the euphony he is incapable of producing himself. Hanzo turns his head to see Jesse, looking at him with a lopsided grin on his face.

“You’re gettin’ better,” He says, removing one hand to tip his hat at Hanzo. A show-off.

“Indeed,” Hanzo mumbles tacitly. He does not mean to allow his exhaustion to leak through the cracks in his voice, but it floods his words like ice water. Jesse nudges his shoulder, understanding.

“Hey, take it easy, darlin’,” He murmurs. Slowly, he pushes Hanzo’s hands off the keys, taking the song for his own. It is a simple tune, at least it had been as Hanzo played it. Jesse’s version was much more complex, keeping the same sound they had with four hands using just his two. 

Claire De La Lune, an old lullabye. Hanzo watches Jesse’s hands shift over the keys, fluid like water, and suddenly, the music no longer hides sleep from him, but pulls it out, surrounding him like a warm breeze. Subconsciously, Hanzo leans against Jesse’s shoulder, slowly collapsing under his own weight.

“My mother used to play this song for me and my brother, to help us sleep…” Hanzo mumbles, blinking slowly. Jesse hums in reply, a rumble in his chest that Hanzo feels where he is leaning against him. “She played piano also, though not as well as you…”

Hanzo feels himself slipping away, but the fear of nightmares felt subdued, chased away by the soft pull of the piano. Jesse may say something else to him, but Hanzo does not hear it as he falls asleep soundly for the first time in a long while.

-  
“I do not believe I’ve seen you here in the daylight,” Hanzo remarks, slipping onto the same worn bench, his leg pressing comfortably against Jesse’s. Daylight is a generous term: dusk settles into the room like a coat of dust, soaking the world in rich orange and yellow tones. Jesse shifts his hands to the left, making room for Hanzo. 

“You’re a bit of a night owl yourself,” Jesse retorts. Hanzo recognizes the tune he is playing, but the name escapes him. It is a duet, though Jesse managed to play both parts alone, as if he had been waiting for Hanzo to join him.

The music is simple, and Hanzo joins in easily. The notes braid together into a bouncy tune, full of life and movement. For a moment, Hanzo and Jesse’s hands brush together. Jesse grins at him from the corner of his vision, and Hanzo can’t help but think happiness looks good on him. 

“I’d say you’re definitely improving, darlin’,” McCree says conversationally. Hanzo nods, concentrating on his hands. He is not yet as confident in his playing as Jesse, but Jesse seems to understand, and allows Hanzo to focus in silence, filling it with his own words. “You’re a pretty quick learner, too. Took me years to sound as good as you.”

“Do not flatter me,” Hanzo manages. Jesse laughs, rich and sonorous, rivaling even the piano’s melody. Hanzo’s fingers stumble, but Jesse doesn’t comment. For a moment, Hanzo sees Jesse’s own hands begin to drift to the side, but they never quite slip off the keys. Hanzo is not envious, simply transfixed.

The song is short. It ends with a flourish, or at least, Jesse ends it with one. They sit, listening to the silence seep back into the room, bathing itself in the oranges and yellows of dusk. It falls across them, but now it does not feel stifling. It is thin, and comfortable. Hanzo can breath.

“I have heard this song before, but I do not recall the name,” Hanzo says, punching a hole in the thin silence between them. Jesse raises an eyebrow at him, and smiles.

“Of course you have, honey. It’s Heart and Soul, everyone knows it.”

“Indeed. It is a simple melody.”

“Yeah,” Jesse concedes, and leans back, stretching his arms. “It is. But that’s part of what makes it so fun to play. I usually play it when I’m lookin’ to relax.”

Simple, yet fun. Relaxing. Hanzo feels the thin film of silence spread over them once more, but he ignores it, taken with his own thoughts. Heart and Soul, relaxing, simple…

It reminds him of his time spent with Jesse. Simple, fun, and relaxing. He had not realized it before, but he’d come to love the time spent with Jesse at the piano. Come to love the piano. Come to love- no, impossible. But maybe. He could.

He glances over at Jesse, bathed in soothing yellow light, smiling down at Hanzo. His hair is loose, eyes crinkling with happiness.

Perhaps he already does.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, that was a grind to write! Please leave a comment, I thrive off of feedback and validation! shout with me about video games on tumblr @popcorn-fox


End file.
